


a haze of fleeting moments

by luna_lovegood



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 5 Times, Background Relationships, Friendship, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8061859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_lovegood/pseuds/luna_lovegood
Summary: Renee looked at her as she sat up on the couch and undid her braid, eyes bright and lips stained red. "Alright," Renee agreed. "That sounds like fun. Do you have any nail polish?"
"Chanel or Essie?" Allison shot back and smirked.
(Or, five moments Renee spent with people she cared about.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it because there aren't enough Renee Walker fics out there and Renee is an amazing character.
> 
> (Disclaimer: I don't All for the Game or, subsequently, anything about it.  
> Micheline is my own character. I have the rights to her, but not characters Nora Sakavic owns.)

“What do you believe in?” Renee asked, voice gentle, fingers twisting the chain of her cross like she was familiar with challenging God. Her knuckles were split and ugly shades against her own pastel aesthetic. Her legs were folded Indian-style, sweat cooling on her skin, used sparring equipment (boxing gloves, wraps, knives) piled up a few feet away like a shrine.

Micheline looked at her, eyes dark and steady, lovely face erased of emotion and makeup. “Rawness. Raw power, raw need, raw love. Truth, trust and instinct, things you know deep in your core, ingrained into your skin. The strength of yourself, the strength of others. That God can't save you in this Godforsaken world. If it's you and someone in the ring, it's not God fighting that other person, it's you.” Her voice was cold and unforgiving and, of course, raw. Everything Micheline did was raw and true underneath a glossy, cool veneer. She was twenty-one, now, second year captain of the UCLA Bruins Exy team with one Class I gold championship trophy already tucked under her belt.

“That's good,” Renee said. Micheline believed in these things, wore them like a crown around her head and a worn scarf hanging around her neck and that was  _Micheline_. She gave no judgement and heard none in Micheline's speech, but Renee did hear condemnation:  _choose what you want to believe, but be careful of where you lay your faith._  This was something she knew in her blood and bones. Finding God wasn't entirely her salvation, but it was her choice. “Andrew says hi.”

Micheline’s eyes glittered. She was a predator, she was a monster, she was a machine and Renee saw a girl who stripped herself raw and questioned no one she trusted for the sake of that founded trust. It was why Andrew took a mild interest in her, why Neil looked at her warily, why Renee was here and why she was friends with her and Jean. “Tell him I say hi.”

She stood gracefully, feet planting firmly on the blue gym mat where they had been sparring, body unfolding as if she was never meant to sit. To stay down. It reminded Renee of the momentum in fights, rolling back to her feet, fists up. It reminded her that Micheline never broke. She stumbled and bled, bent and tensed, but she was always so strong. It made Renee both proud and sad.

Her dark hair was slicked back, showing the bright rainbow-dyed underside of her hair, the hidden layer.

“Nice hair,” Renee told her. “I love the colors.”

Micheline’s lips curved into a sharp smile. “Thank you.”

* * *

 “I'm. Better,” Jean Moreau told her softly, French accent brushing his voice. “The Trojans still need technique help but. They're good enough.”

“Have you been on a lot?” Renee asked. She knew, she watched the games, but she asked anyway because it made him happy. He'd been on the court a lot since the beginning, up in the ranks one of the best Exy players, a fantastic backliner with sorrow and guilt shoved down his throat, the taste of bitterness lingering on his tongue and a thirst to be his own person itching at his hands. It had been over two years since Riko’s death and he'd softened at the edges, worn down in his frayed sweaters and standing as tall as Kevin more often than not.

“I have,” Jean said. “But you know that already.”

“I know. It's really great, Jean, that's so great.” It was. He'd come a long way since Edgar Allen, since being free and scared, relying on others and hating them. She was proud because she knew what it was like to progress, to feel that progress in your bones and hands, to know how much better you were as a person. It was something she knew everyone felt differently. She was glad Jean was feeling it.

“Last year here,” murmured Jean, looking down at his hands.

Renee smiled. “Will you miss anything?” she prompted softly.

“Perhaps,” he said vaguely, but the way his eyes flickered told her enough.

“Which team are you signing for?”

“New York,” he replied after a moment’s pause. The corner of her lips curved up.

“Isn’t that where Jeremy’s signing?” They were going to play in Court together and had plans to live together. That was her bet and her general suspicion. Jean wouldn't miss his boyfriend at all -- he would miss Alvarez and Laila, but not Jeremy, definitely not Jeremy, who was going with him and as infatuated with Jean as he was for him.

Jean glared with no real malice and Renee kept smiling.

* * *

When Renee called Andrew for their weekly Thursday calls, she was a bit surprised to hear Neil on the other end, but no less warm. At the beginning of everything, she and Andrew both agreed he could've used more training. Now, she thought about Matt teaching him how to box, the knives up his armbands that Andrew had given him, and felt a protective instinct draping like a velvet cape or cotton blanket over her shoulders.

“Neil,” she said, friendly, easy, looking out the window of her apartment. “How are you?”

“I'm fine,” he replied. She trusted him on that. Andrew hadn't texted her any updates on his injuries, so she knew that e he was actually fine. Neil said, “Andrew isn't here right now. He's out. Getting ice cream

“Okay,” she said, accepting. At that moment, her phone buzzed. “Sorry, Neil, if you could hold on for a second?”

**Neil Josten [8:34 P.M.]: took josten's phone when getting ice cream i'll b back soon**

**You [8:34 P.M.]: It’s alright. What ice cream are you getting?**

**Neil Josten [8:35 P.M.]: chocolate**

Renee returned to the call. “Neil?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry about that, Andrew texted me about how he grabbed your phone instead of his.”

“That happens,” Neil told her and she chuckled, folding her legs Indian style on her couch.

“It's happened to all of us,” she said to him, thinking about how Dan and her had switched phones by accident multiple times. Allison had given Renee her phone after Seth’s death for over a month until she was ready but that wasn't the same thing, not something she was going to mention. “How are the cats?”

“I just fed them. We got new toys for them. Sir Fat Cat likes chew toys.”

“You sent pictures to the group chat that I saw, it was sweet. Does King Fluffykins have a favourite toy?” Renee asked, smiling fondly, running her hand over her cross.

She had given Andrew and Neil her blessing in many ways -- her silent support, the house decor she'd given them, sweaters she'd left on their beds in Fox Tower. But she'd only given them her spoken blessing once, when they'd gotten both cats and looked content and she told them _bless you_. Neil looked at her funny, Andrew nodded at her.

“No. He just kinds of wanders around, he really likes the blanket you gave us.”

“Which one?”

“The colorful knitted one that's really soft.” Ah, yes, that one. Renee felt something sweet and amused inside her at the fact that a cat enjoyed her handmade blanket.

“Do you ever use it?” she wondered mildly.

There was a pause. “Not really. King Fluffykins claimed it as his territory. Andrew uses the purple one.” Another pause. “I use the grey woolly one.”

Renee laughed warmly, “that's okay,” and she felt something else inside her, soft and happy. Neil had come to trust her, a long ways from the days he spent thinking she was sin and purity wound tightly together, an angel that reminded him of some sort of demon. She was glad that it had changed, that they were friends.

* * *

Nicky waved cheerily the moment Renee walked into the coffee shop. She was five minutes early, Nicky must have come even earlier. He looked good -- eyes bright, cheeks flushed, smile wide.

"Renee!" he grinned, abandoning the two cups at the table as bounded up to hug her. She hugged him back, his body familiar and solid. Nicky was sweet. "It's been too long," he said, pulling back. "You look great."

"So do you," Renee said, following him back to the table. He pushed one of the mugs in her direction and she took a sip, the notes of citrus-lavender-sage tea danced across her tongue. "Thanks for the tea, Nicky, how much do I owe you?"

He smiled at her. "Nothing, don't even worry about it." He flapped a hand about, taking a sip from his own cup. "God, Erik got me addicted to hot chocolate. I swear, that's, like, the only reason Andrew likes him. Or, you know, as much as Andrew can like a person that's not you or Neil, anyway." He waggled his eyebrows when he said 'Neil' and Renee smiled.

"Nicky," she said, gently, "you know Andrew." She didn't need to say more than that. Nicky sighed and his gaze shifted down, emotions tangling across his face. Renee leaned over and placed her hand on top of his, touching lightly.

"Yeah, I do," he said, downtrodden. Renee gazed at him silently, sympathy and empathy joining together in her chest and she pressed down a bit harder, letting him know she was there. Nicky looked up and shook it off, rolling his eyes, brightening. " _Anyway_ ," he said, anxious energy, "how are you? How's Allison?"

"We're both fine, thank you," Renee told him. She didn't pretend not to know that, when Nicky and Allison texted each other, they referred to each other as 'bitch' and 'whore.' She chose not to comment on it. "How's Erik?"

She remembered when he first moved out to Germany, the way he fussed over the team and the twins especially. The twins had been as disinterested as ever, even bordering on annoyed at times, but the rest of the team had let it run it's course. Renee had helped him pack and sat there in patient silence, one hand smoothing over his shoulder, while he quivered and closed his eyes, smoothing his hands over the ticket, face turned in the direction of the living room where everyone had been shoved in to.

Now, though, now he was vibrant and happy. She'd received multiple texts and shipped gifts about Germany and she'd been happy that he was happy. She still was.

"Erik's fantastic," Nicky beamed. "We talked about getting married. Like, not right now, I don't think? But soon. I can't  _even_." His fingers fluttered against the ceramic.

"Nicky," Renee said, "that's fantastic." There was a betting pool beginning about Nicky and Erik's engagement date that Dan, Matt and Allison had already gotten in to. Renee had been waiting until Nicky said something, just to be sure.

"I know," Nicky laughed, bright and loud. "And you and Allison? Lesbian marriage _is_ legal in the U.S., after all."

"Maybe," she hummed, noncommital. She knew there was a betting pool about their own engagement, but they weren't in any rush. It was nice, their relationship as it was, even if they were both busy and didn't see each other quite as often as they would like. For now, she was content. It was enough and she felt blessed and grateful. "Have you been going to church lately?"

"Yeah," Nicky said, his hand jerked up to his chest abruptly, then falling away. As if to touch a cross or rosary. "Sometimes. Mostly. It's just something, whatever, you know?"

Renee squeezed his hand once. "I know," she smiled and let the subject fall away, glad he was rediscovering his faith in his own time, like he'd always wanted to. College Exy, travel and keeping up with the team didn't leave a lot of time to rediscover your faith or go to church consistently. Now, Renee was going as many a Sunday she was able and Nicky was going at his own pace.

* * *

"How're the monsters?" Allison asked casually, after a conversation about how busy her schedule had been lately, fishtail-braiding her hair with practiced ease. They were in Renee's apartment, Allison sprawled on her couch and Renee on the floor, legs crossed. Allison had showed up that morning, dragging a suitcase for the weekend, complaining about her busy schedule and lack of inspiration. Renee had smiled sympathetically and let her in, cup of tea still in hand. "Still wrecking havoc and being weird and silent?"

Renee looked up from where she was spreading out a selection of movies. "Allison," Renee said, chiding, "they're not monsters. Please don't call them that." She looked back down at their choices. Disney movies like _Mulan_ , _Tangled_ and _Princess and the Frog_. Chick flicks like _How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days_ , _The Other Woman_ and _In Her Shoes_. There were a couple of thrillers, like  _Black Swan_ , and seasons of TV shows, like  _Gossip Girl_ and  _Grey's Anatomy_ , thrown into the mix.

Horrors they tended to stray from, it brought in memories of Riko and Edgar Allen Ravens, of past fights and deaths they would both rather not touch on.

"Sorry," Allison told her, not sounding at all apologetic. "Hm, I want a girls night-in. Like, those cliche ones us and Dan would get into. Not the big slumber parties we had with the Vixens."

The Vixen slumber parties involved makeovers (heated hair, shadowed eyes, painted lips) and then face masks and exfoliated skin, purging on vast quantities of healthy snacks before abandoning them for pints of Ben and Jerry. The room would be filled with gossip and laughter, too loud to hear the chick flick or Top 40 playlist in the background.

_Their_ girls night-ins involved eating junk food and doing face masks, braiding hair and painting nails. They would unwind in their dorm, a movie in the background as they talked and laughed, full of inside jokes. It was relaxing and simple, not as rushed and full of life. it was like they were something of sisters, or, rather, people Renee loved so much, she could feel it in her veins, and, still, it was easy to be around them.

Renee looked at her as she sat up on the couch and undid her braid, eyes bright and lips stained red. "Alright," Renee agreed. "That sounds like fun. Do you have any nail polish?"

"Chanel or Essie?" Allison shot back and smirked. "I've got Sephora face masks too. It's been an entire _week_ since I've exfoliated." She looked beautiful like that, eager and drawling, bright. Shining. Throwing around brand names as was her norm, tossing her hair with her signature attitude.

"It depends on the color. I think purple or blue might be nice," Renee said, touching Allison's knee at her complaint and offering her the bowl of caramel-popcorn, dotted with mini M&Ms.

"I've got a green face mask with your name on it, babe." Allison winked, taking a huge handful and stuffing it in her mouth. "And these things to reduce eye-puffiness. I forget what they're called, God, but they work." She finished chewing before talking, of course, as was ingrained in her blood - like the way she strutted, like the way she talked.

Renee patted her knee, smiling. "I don't think green's my color."

"It'll leave you more beautiful that you already are," Allison promised grandly, something soft curling the corners of her mouth.

"You're kind," Renee said. She wasn't Andrew, she didn't always tell the truth. She tried to, though, and she was telling the truth when she said Allison was kind - she was generous to her loved ones, and helpful in her own way. She was beautiful and far too sexualized, but she was also kind and sharp-witted -- something people usually failed to acknowledge.

Allison smirked, fluffing up like a peacock. "Of course I am," she said, like it was no big deal. Renee knew better and smiled knowingly, lovingly, as Allison kissed her, open-mouthed and firm.

**Author's Note:**

> Micheline is my own OC, she's a UCLA Bruin and I really like her. She's got a troubled past worthy of a Fox. Her speech about what she believed in was inspired by Andrew's speech about what believed in from "a switchblade is my preferred weapon" by badacts.  
> Also, Renee and Allison are great together. Is there a ship name for the two? Renison? Rallison? Allinee?  
> (Jeremy and Jean are precious and Andrew and Neil are favorite problematics -- I couldn't resist slipping a bit of JereJean and Andreil in.)  
> 


End file.
